Halfway Gone
by mintlumos
Summary: While at the Chateau, Widowmaker's brainwashing starts to wear off, triggered by an unexpected person.


Widow stared at the portrait, Amelie Lacroix stared back.

"Hey, Widowmaker." Someone yelled from down the hall. Widow rolled her eyes, her again. "What now, Sombra?" She asked in her clipped accent.

The Mexican grinned, she loved trying to annoy Widow, one of the few amusements she had in Talon, and it was less likely to end in a spray of bullets to the head unlike with Gabe. She had pushed him a little to hard last week and had to translocate away before he had a chance to pistol whip her in the face. She stood on her tip toes holding a small box against the wall. "Do you want the wifi receiver here?" She hopped and moved it a little to the right. "Or here?"

Widow's eye twitched. "For the last time, I. Don't. Care."

Sombra gave her a hurt look. "But it's your mansion."

"This is a Talon safe house, not my mansion." Widow hissed irritably. She felt like she would have exploded in a Prima Donna rage years ago whenever Sombra opened her mouth but now…. Widow went back to staring at the portrait. Now everything was muffled under a layers of cold velvet. She shifted her eyes to the man in the portrait. He looked well kept, put together, dark slick hair and a small mustache. Gerard. Something under the velvet stirred but didn't rise.

"Fine, it's your chateau." Sombra broke through her thoughts. "So here or here?"

With a swish of her long hair, Widow walked pointedly away without answering.

"Just want to make sure you like it!" Sombra yelled after her with a grin.

Widow rubbed her forehead as she walked down the dusty hall. The headaches were getting more frequent, and it probably wasn't all the hacker's fault, probably. Maybe she should visit the doctor. Widow grimaced, the thought wasn't pleasant, vague feelings of terror accompanied it. But she found herself walking in the direction of the room Moira had taken for her office.

As she neared, she heard rumbles of voices from the room, someone was already there.

"You're covered in black from head to foot, it's no wonder you're fading more often. Try some actual sunlight, vitamin D does wonders for the skin, even yours." Moira's smooth Scottish accent became more clear as Widow approached.

There was a low reply and fading footsteps, the patient must have gone out the other door. Widow stopped a few feet from the door, having second thoughts, the demelia was solved for her as the door opened and Moira almost ran into her, busy reading a tablet. "Oh!" Her mismatched eyes flicked over Widow in a cursory examination. "How are you feeling, Lacroix?" She asked. Her short orange hair was bristling in several directions. Widow had always disliked it, everything about it offended her artistic sensibility, what was left of it. She decided today wasn't the day for a doctor's visit.

"I don't feel." She said turning with another flick of her hair. "That's the point isn't it?"

She could feel Moira's eyes the whole way down the hall.

She decided maybe some fresh air would help; this idea found her leaning on the balcony of the third floor, staring out over the ocean which was slowly turning dark in the coming twilight. She looked down at the calm ocean, the inlet the chateau was built next to provide a small private beach and smooth cliffs next to the building. She turned back towards the bedroom the balcony was attached to. She had taken it as her sleeping quarters for the duration of their stay, she hadn't been sure why, but now she remembered, this was her room growing up. There were faded posters and paintings of ballet dancers on the walls and chipped statuettes that she vaguely remembered buying. She glanced back at the balcony, a clear memory suddenly slipped out from under the cold haze, diving off her balcony to the sea below. She had done it frequently as a teenager, it had driven her mother crazy. There wasn't anyone to scream French obscenities now, With a small smirk, Widow took off and with a short run and graceful leap, she did a perfect swan dive down two floors into the cool Mediterranean below. She opened her eyes, they stung slightly with the salt water, she remembered this rush of adrenaline, even at a younger age, it had helped her feel alive. As she moved her arms to swim for the surface she paused. In the twilight sun, under the water, her skin looked different. She held her hand up to her face. It didn't look blue, it looked almost normal. The sight seemed to trigger something in her head, with a blinding headache the velvet moved and memories bombarded her. Breakfast at the chateau with her family, ballet recitals, someone holding her close and warm, a scream and darkness, someone gripping her roughly, needles. Widow gasped and choked as water flooded into her mouth. Her eyes snapped open, she was still underwater, floundering for equilibrium. She felt the weight of water in her lungs, she was going to die, actually die. Would that be so bad? There was a dull thud nearby and then something solid was wrapped around her chest, lifting her to the surface. She blacked out for a second and then gasped as she was roughly thrown onto the sand, she retched out the sea water, gagging and gasping as the raw air rasped in her lungs. She collapsed on her side, closing her eyes and concentrating on getting enough oxygen, it had gotten harder ever since Moira had...had done something to her.

"The hell are you doing?" An impossibly low voice growled in her ear. "There are less dramatic ways to off yourself, you know."

Widow coughed one more time and opened her eyes, there was someone lying next to her on the sand. Through the salty grit all she could see was brown skin. She didn't reply but continued to clear the salt from her mouth and eyes.

"Or was it one of those adrenaline rushes you crave so much?"

She finally recognized the voice. "You didn't have to help, Reaper, if it offended you so much." She managed to push herself up off the sand.

"You-" Widow stopped short and blinked. Her vision was finally cleared, it wasn't Reaper, it couldn't have been. She had only seen him fully dressed for combat, but this couldn't be him. He had short, curly black hair slicked down from his swim, tan skin of someone with latino blood and dark green eyes that watched her coolly. As she stared at him a part of his chest seemed to flicker and turn partly into smoke before returning to tan skin. "You…" Widow said, shuddering, the cold velvet cloth stirred violently. "You're…" it suddenly slid sideways and she screamed as pain split her head in two, memories coming free from the abyss.

She was holding onto Gerard's arm, looking nervously around. "Are you sure I'm allowed to be here?" She asked.

"They let Ana's daughter run around, I see no reason why you would any more of a security threat." Gerard soothed. "Besides." He leaned over and kissed her cheek with a smile. "I've bragged too much about my fiancée and some have raised doubts about your existence." Amelie smiled and blushed slightly, squeezing his arm. "You're too charming for your own good."

He pressed his forehead fondly against hers. "It's the only reason I managed to beat the rest of your suitors to you."

He looked up as someone approached. "Ah! Here is one of the doubters now! Commander Reyes!"

Amelie looked up and studied the approaching man. He looked like the soldiers they advertised on recruitment billboards, tall, broad, strong, and darkly handsome in a dark blue uniform. He glanced up from paper he was reading. Slight scars on his cheek only added to his air of capableness.

"Gerard." He greeted. "You brought your sister with you." He said turning his eyes to Amelie. "How thoughtful." He extended a hand to Amelie with a smile. "Wonderful to meet you, I can see why he waited long to bring you around."

Gerard made a noise of exasperation. "This is Amelie Guillard, my fiancée, Reyes, kindly keep your claws off."

Reyes gave her a flick of sly smile. "Ah well, one could always hope."

Amelie blinked, taken aback by his blunt forwardness. She had always had interested suitors but the air with which he carried himself and way he talked caught her flatfooted.

Gerard gave a disgusted snort. "I knew I shouldn't have started with you, where's Lindholm? He's much less likely to try to steal my fiancée."

Reyes gave a short laugh, pushing Gerard lightly. "Settle down, Lacroix, only teasing."

He gave Amelie one last nod as he resumed his walk. "Welcome to Overwatch, Miss Gulliard."

Widow blinked tears away, clutching her head. What was that? When had she? Gerard, what happened? Blood, his blood. What had she done?!

"Widowmaker?" Someone was shaking her shoulder roughly. "Hey, what's wrong?" She glanced back up, it was a mistake. Reyes was in front of her, shaking her by both arms. Looking at him brought another rush of pain and she doubled over as another memory surfaced.

"And what are you supposed to be?" Ana asked Reinhardt. The German man huffed with disappointment. "An admiral, of course! Feel free to admire!" He boomed. Amelie giggled behind her hand. She had grown fond of Reinhardt in the time she had spent with the members of Overwatch, it was hard not to love him.

She sipped the wine in her hand and glanced around the room, it was the most relaxed she had ever seen the military group. They had exchanged their crisp uniforms for colorful costumes, it seems even the higher command wasn't exempt from Halloween. Angela Ziegler batted Jack Morrison's hand away from his collar as he tugged on it self consciously for the tenth time. "It looks fine!" She said with an exasperated air. He gave her a look of disbelief mixed with fondness. Amelie wondered what was going on there. Speaking of which, she looked over to where Gerard was in deep conversation with the short one, what was his name? Something bear-like.

"Enjoying yourself, Miss Guilliard?" There was a rustle of fabric to her left. Amelie tried unsuccessfully not to jump, Reyes had a way of sneaking up on people that belied his heavier frame. Even with a heavy cloak and costume he seemed wraith-like in his movements.

"Yes actually, and you can't call me that for much longer." She said with a grin.

Reyes looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "That's right, January's the month, yeah?"

She nodded, suddenly distracted by the elaborate costume. "What are you supposed to be?"

"Headless horseman, but it made more sense with the pumpkin head. It was a bit too realistic for Reinhardt and he smashed it. He's threatening to make me a new one with an actual pumpkin to make up for it." He poured himself a drink. "That's your Odette costume from Swan Lake isn't it?"

Amelie blinked in surprise. "Yes, actually it is. How did you know?"

"Cause I went to see it." He said simply. "We all did. Gerard kept singing the praises of his Prima Donna ballerina to the high heavens so we got tired of it and decided to see it for ourselves."

He looked at her for a moment and then turned to watch the crowd. "He wasn't lying, you were as graceful as you are beautiful, a pleasure to watch."

"Careful, commander." Amelie said lightly. "Comments like that are how you get a knife in your ribs while you sleep." The compliment had pleased her though.

"Yeah, that's why I sleep cradling a shotgun." He replied with his sly grin.

There was suddenly a German-accented wall of muscle in front of them. "Gabriel, I found a pumpkin that will fit your head! Hold still."

As quietly as he had appeared and with double the speed, Reyes was gone.

Widow gasped, her vision clearing again.

"Come on, snap out of it." Reyes said gruffly. "Widowmaker, hey." She was aware of how huge his hands felt on her slight shoulder. Had she always been this thin?

"Amelie." She said softly, quietly.

He was suddenly still. "What?"

"I'm Amelie." She looked up at him, studying his face. It was different from how she remembered. The lines of his face deeper, the eyes harder, the scars more apparent. "Gabriel."

He dropped his hands from her shoulders as if burned. "Where did you hear that?!" He growled darkly. "Is Sombra telling-"

"I remember you."

A long silence followed her statement. He looked alarmed, angry and confused.

"I remember…" she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration. "You were….charming."

Whatever he had expected her to say, it wasn't that. He rocked back on his heels, staring at her in surprise. "What?"

And suddenly, like the wave receding from the beach, the velvet moved back into place and muted the memories, the feelings. She dropped her face back into her usual disdainful frown. "What the hell are you wearing?"

He blinked in confusion, the sudden shift throwing him. "They're called pants, Widow."

"Why are you only wearing pants?"

He leaned around her and picked up a hooded jacket, probably tossed aside when he had dove into the ocean after her. "Our resident doctor seems to think I need more sun exposure." He said, yanking the jacket on and the hood up over his head. Part of his hand flickered in and out of smoke. "Why are you making suicide jumps off the cliff?"

"Having fun." She said in a monotone. "Until you came along."

Well, next time I won't interrupt you." He snapped, standing up and brushing sand off. She was surprised to see him offer his hand to her. She took it and with a graceful motion was on her feet. He didn't let go of her hand, his dark eyes narrowed, studying her from under the hood. Something softer flickered in his eyes for a heartbeat. "They never should have involved you." He said it so quietly and quickly Widow had trouble understanding it. "What?"

He lifted his other hand, taking her chin gently, firmly. They locked eyes for a few more heartbeats, then she felt his hand slip as his fingers turned to smoke. "Charming, was I?" His voice so cold and low, unlike the way she remembered it, confident and warm. He stepped back and turned away, walking back towards the stairs to the safe house. "That was another life. Gabriel Reyes is dead, best remember that."

Widow stood on the sand, trying to grasp the feelings that wanted to surface above the cold.

"Oh, and Widow." She looked up, he had paused on the first stair. "I wouldn't go telling Moira about your rediscoveries, if you know what's good for you."

"You're not going to tell her yourself?" She asked in surprise.

Reaper turned to face her, in the fading light she could have sworn, just for a moment, there was a sly grin on his face. "I owe you one, you never told Gerard about that Christmas, or I would have woken up with his knife in my ribs." He turned and walked up the stairs. "We'll call it even."

Widow blinked hard, Christmas. What had happened at Christmas? She concentrated on the stirring in the back of her mind, willing it forward. Another flash of pain gave way to another memory.

Amelie pulled the coat closer around her shoulders, didn't they heat these hallways? She looked left and right, they had built this building like a maze, she could never remember how to get to Gerard's office.

"Miss Gulliard, you look lost." Reyes' voice came from behind her.

She managed not to jump this time as she turned.

He gave her that grin that always made her forget her train of thought. "You're reactions are improving."

Amelie huffed in annoyance. "I was trying to remember the way to Gerard. It's not like there's a map of this place.

He shrugged. "Security measure. Come on, I'll take you." He gestured to her left, falling in next to her.

"Merci." She said. "Are you sure you don't have better things to do?"

"Nothing more pleasant." He said airily.

Amelie was annoyed to find herself turning pink.

"You and Gerard have any Christmas plans?" He asked a minute later.

"Not particularly. The usual, traditional sort."

Reyes glanced upwards. "You like Christmas traditions?"

"It's always been a favorite holiday of mine, yes."

"Good." He suddenly stopped and took one of her arms so she spun to face him.

"What are-" she stopped short as he kissed her gently, his rough hand ever so slightly on her neck, her brain short-circuiting.

He pulled away as suddenly as he had leaned in. "Mistletoe." He pointed above them. "About as traditional as it gets I would say." His eyes flicked over her face for a half-second longer and then he let her go. "Second door down the right." He said over his shoulder. "Merry Christmas, Lacroix."

Widow stumbled backwards as she came back to the present. It was now dark, she could barely see the small figure of Reaper as he entered the chateau. "Charming indeed." She muttered darkly to herself. The cold velvet shrouded her again and she shivered as the cool wind hit her blue skin. She made her way towards the stairs, wondering where Sombra had ended up putting the wifi.


End file.
